


We Have a Bond

by 100dabbo



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tom Wambsgans, Daddy Kink, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Smut, Height Differences, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Missing Scene, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Neck Kissing, Sharing a Bed, Spooning, Sub Tom Wambsgans, Top Greg Hirsch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: After taking Greg to dinner, Tom brings him back to his apartment. With Shiv away, anything could happen.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31





	We Have a Bond

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for Succession, hope you like it :) This is set in Season 1 Episode 6, 'Which Side Are You On?', the evening of Tom and Greg's date

As Greg stumbled in behind Tom into the open space of the apartment, he couldn’t help but feel the subtle quaver in his stomach while both the alcohol, and the fact that he was standing in his boss’ home, settle inside of him. He clutched to the collar of the other man’s coat, even as it was lazily shirked off of his arms, and he held it to his throbbing head to cushion it while stabilising himself against the nearest wall.

It was only his topcoat, dark black and woollen to keep him warm during New York’s biting wind, and it smelled so richly of his scent that in his state, he couldn’t be helped for nosing at it idly, humming quietly as he heard the opening and closing of cupboards; Tom searching for painkillers. Perhaps it was a preliminary move, or maybe he too was already feeling the dull pain of an oncoming headache, but it was still clear from both of their attitudes that neither man truly wanted to part from the festivities of their night.

Shiv was in Washington, that much had been disclosed already by Tom earlier that morning, and so the night could take them well through the morning without consequence. Greg would have to answer to his boss for being late, only he was fortunate enough that that very boss was now cracking open the foil on a sachet of tablets to neck two down with a gulp of water from the tap right in front of him.

He braced both of his hands on the counter with water still dripping down his chin, looking up at Greg with strained eyes to ask him a question.

“How are you feeling, Greg? Huh? Still up for some fun?”

The answer was yes, but also no. He was up for fun all right, but the type of fun that wouldn’t need any sort of effort required; something passive, something easy, not like dancing all evening or getting to another bar. Though, in already retreating back to Tom’s apartment, the likelihood of going out again was slim. So, in keeping his truth, Greg answered honestly.

“Y’know, Tom, I’m kind of zonked, so if we could just chill, like, maybe with some food or something, that’d be good.” He dropped the coat from his head and threw it aimlessly across the back of a chair, “I heard bread actually absorbs, like, the- the alcohol, and I’m actually pretty hungry as well, I don’t know about you, so—”

“Okay, Greg, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Tom interrupted, bringing his fist to his mouth as he paused before continuing, knowing Greg was awaiting his proclamation with his eager, albeit tired, eyes, “You’re gonna get yourself some bread, I’m gonna take a piss, then we’re going to bed.”

Greg nodded his head lazily to the suggestion, taking it as more of a command rather than offering a point of own. He wasn’t completely ready for sleep, but the thought of a soft pillow to rest under his head was too appealing of a notion to defy. He stepped forward, steadying his vertiginous gait while he navigated his way around the kitchen counter to seek out what he needed. Tom moved away in the direction of his bedroom the second Greg’s palms met with the granite top, flatly placed as he gazed, open mouthed, inside the breadbin. His ears picked up the quiet tap of Tom’s shoes and their hard heels on the floor, though they were quickly forgotten about as they faded away and into the other room.

He reverted his attention solely to the foodstuffs, trying to make a decision of what he was to take. There was only one choice before him. Granary bread. Very adult. Very grownup. Very not Greg.

He rolled the lid back down, trying to ignore the slight nausea to the thought of a staid diet like that, and padded his way after Tom, aimlessly traversing the vast apartment in pursuit of the only man who could guide him through it. He clutched at his empty stomach, rubbing it gently over his shirt.

“Hey Tom?” He called out, reaching the bedroom he and Shiv shared and walking into it without precaution. The first thing his eye caught sight of was the bed, tidily made just like the rest of the room with its fancy décor and furniture. “Tom?” He repeated, and this time it resulted in the emergence of the man himself from the en-suite. His hands were wet, still trying to dry them haphazardly on his trousers rather than bring through a towel.

“Yeah?” He said, also briefly eyeing at the bed that was ready to swallow him into sleep.

“I was wondering, um, because I’m actually, on reflection, more tired than I had thought, former to what I said, and if- do you have, like, a guest room?” He neglected to mention how he didn’t take up any of the food Tom had offered him, and that he was still hungering slightly, instead remaining without complaint, not wishing to make himself a nuisance as Tom’s guest.

Tom chuckled lightly at him while he pulled the tie off of his neck, flinging it across the back of the closest armchair.

“No, you know what?” His fingers began to unfasten the buttons on the top of his collar, “I don’t want to be responsible for you choking on your own vomit in the night, so we’re sharing this bed.” He nodded at the bed in question, which directed Greg’s hazy gaze back towards its plush pillows and yielding sheets. 

It looked terribly comfortable, alluringly so, so wide and soft and comfortable, that just from a single look, Greg could feel the mattress sink beneath his weight. He didn’t even think to question it, especially not in his state. 

The enticing white sheets drew him closer and closer until he collapsed into them, moaning against the pillows while the softness hit him.

“Soft, right?” Tom asked as he kicked the shoes from his feet, sitting himself on the edge of the mattress before he leant back to flop beside the other man. He turned his head to look at him, his eyelashes resting calmly on his cheeks. The eyes themselves opened not a second after, blinking three times in quick succession; the first for the registration of Tom’s presence, the second for his close proximity, and the third for the question originally posed.

“Yeah.” He answered to the rhetorical, smoothing his palms over the sheets, preluding his next mention, “And I don’t have any pyjamas, y’know, because I haven’t gotten the chance to, even though they paid me, so I might just, have to sleep in this.”

He didn’t bother gesturing to his suit, sure that Tom was aware of what he meant, and turned around to lay his back flat on the mattress.

“Bullshit, Greg, no you’re not,” Tom laughed, his hands working on the buttons of his shirt again, “Don’t think you’re getting out of work tomorrow, and don’t think you’ll have time to go back to your place to change.” The only light in the room that was illuminating their space, the bedside lamp, was flicked off with Tom’s words, leaving them with just the dim shadows and subtle glow coming through the window from streetlights.

“Alright, man, whatever.”

He began stripping absentmindedly, mirroring the other man, whose shirt was nearly off, all but the sleeves needing to be pulled from his limbs. He shimmied out of his trousers to bask in the swath of sheets, not even opening his eyes to watch Tom do the same to save himself from both applying the effort of sight, and the embarrassment of seeing him bare.

It wasn’t like he was averse to it, no, not in any way, only with the knowledge that he was so dearly committed to his cousin, Greg wanted to prevent the radiation of any sort of energy that could be deemed inappropriate between the two of them. 

By contrast, Tom was the one to notice the bareness of both of their forms, still keeping silent to refrain from disturbing the younger man’s intent to remove his clothes so awkwardly and clumsily. 

As the tie was loosened and the shirt was undone, Tom could see that Greg wasn’t the fittest man ever. He wasn’t hairy either, but by no means was he hair _less_. A small trail of it peppered his chest, as it did with his forearms, and that much was already known to him from the way he’d so often roll the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. So, there he lay, on Tom’s side of the bed, his hair flopped like a careless cover over his forehead with only a pair of boxer shorts to separate him from his nakedness. His long legs spread themselves across the mattress to enjoy the comfort before Tom spoke again,

“Have you got enough space, Greg?”

They were retracted quickly as he re-opened his eyes, registering the actual meaning of the question a second later while grasping to the edge of the duvet to carefully pull it over himself. He stared at Tom. Well, he stared at his chest.

Beneath his shirt, beneath his suit and his tie – his professional façade – Greg would never have guessed Tom was so well built. He himself was scrawny and svelte, and was sure that everyone knew it, even with his attempts of concealing his body with clothes and coats, yet, the disparity in both of their sizes was a sudden shock that he’d never considered before. He was taller, but by just a glance, it was clear Tom was stronger. And that was a notion he liked a lot.

“Yeah, s- so about that,” He started as he settled into the bed, trying to look away. “I tend to like- so, you know, when you starfish?”

“Starfish, Greg?” Tom asked, slipping himself onto Shiv’s side, not at all about to force the younger man to move after establishing his comfort already. He lay flat on his back to imitate the same position, eyes on the ceiling.

Even in the slight dark, he could see Greg begin to gesticulate in his peripheral beneath the sheet.

“I will be prone to, uh, spreading my body out, sorta, like, to relax my body, y’know, and I don’t want it to bother you, so I’m giving you a heads up if that’s cool?”

“Sure, sure, _starfish away_.” Tom said, smirking just a little at the idea of Greg in all his tallness draping his limbs over the edges of the bed to gain comfort. He was endearing and adorable like that, and that was why Tom was finding it to be such a struggle to come down from the buzz of their evening. 

The pause of silence that ensued between them had him believe the other man had already succumb to his sleep, but then he spoke with a quiet mumble to ensure him he was still awake,

“Thanks for taking me out tonight, Tom, I—”

He was cut off again with Tom’s eagerness to return the sentiment,

“No, _no_ , Greg, thank _you_ for coming along!” He began, elated, then transferred his voice to a more genuine softness with the break of a pause, “Because Shiv’s away, and so are my guys. You’re just so cool for letting me take you out, man, seriously.”

Greg’s smile in the darkness was wide, and because Tom knew how becoming of him it was to frame his face, he turned his head to glance at it among the shadows. The glint in his eye revealed all the appreciation to the compliment.

“Really, dude?”

The affirmative answer was about to come forth on Tom’s tongue to confirm what he’d said as a truth rather than one amongst his ever frequent jests, and he extended his hand to rest it on Greg’s wrist, shaking it for assurance,

“When I was new with the Roys, I knew what it was like to be ignored a lot of the time. Still do. So, know that I’m here for you, okay, Greg? I’ll look after you.”

He punctuated that last line with a tighter grip. He didn’t want to let go. Neither did Greg. 

His hand rested its palm over Tom’s knuckles, replying to touch with one of his own. His smile was still wide, and his heart overwhelmed itself with gratitude. Their eyes stayed staring at each other for a second more before contact was broken, and respective hands returned to respective sides.

The both of them contemplated the interaction; how it felt nice and warm to their minds, numbed by alcohol, to their skin, otherwise blank to sensation, to their hearts, lonely with the lack of companionship. The silence that had seen their thoughts busy with one another ended when Tom revealed one last thing, “Fuck, Greg, there’s a spare bed upstairs. I didn’t think you’d actually sleep next to me, man.”

“What?”

Greg’s usual air of confusion could often adeptly translate through just a single word, and this instance was no exception. He turned to look at Tom again, but the older man only continued to stare at the ceiling. His fingers were now interlaced over his chest, letting them rise and fall in cadence with his breaths.

“You really only thought we had a one-bedroom apartment, Greg?”

“I- I don’t know, man, you said it, I just—”

“Well, I was kidding.”

No, he wasn’t. But Greg’s ever conscious mind couldn’t help but interpret it as the truth. There was a beat, the information stewing in Greg’s head. The embarrassment quickly began kicking in at that moment too while he reflected on the mortification of being drunk, undressed, and lying beside his boss, all in one evening, simultaneously. Fuck.

“You want me to leave?” He said, beginning to shift his body away, despite its lethargy, towards the edge of the mattress.

“No.” The reply was too fast, and Greg didn’t have to be hyper-perceptive to pick up Tom’s desperation. He stayed where he was, obedient to his command.

“No one likes an empty bed, right?” He tried to laugh off with a weak chuckle, rationalising the answer in order to align with Tom’s wishes for him to remain.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“And- And, if I left now, well, then we’d both be like that, huh?”

“You’re absolutely right, Greg.” Tom said as he turned his head again, his tone more sombre than before. “Fuck it, come closer.”

The request, however commanding it may have seemed, was a sincere plea for contact. It was duly heeded. Only mere inches separated them once Greg shifted his weight over towards the centre of the bed. Tom’s fingers became unlaced, laid back by his sides again while a question came through, one Greg wasn’t to know would shape what was to come of their evening,

“Big, or little?”

“Sorry?”

“Spoon, Greg,” Tom said with a sigh, as if he didn’t want to ask, as if he was forcing himself to say it, “Big, or little spoon?”

Nervous laughter ensued for about a half second, Greg adjusting himself to the implications laid out by the very thought of having to choose between the two options.

“I mean, I’ve never- Not properly—”

“Uh-huh?”

“No, no! I have in that particular, uh, section, of the, um, department, but I’m saying that embrace wise, in that logistical sense, I—”

“I’d guess big spoon. Is that right?”

The assumption was based heavily, if not completely, on Greg’s taller stature, with limbs long enough to wrap around the entirely of another person with all of his warmth and kindness. With Tom’s guess came the primed hope that it would be true.

“Sure.” Greg answered, also working on conjecture to make his decision. Some sort of combination of shock and delight passed over him as he felt Tom turn over on his side, facing away, clearly expecting Greg to fulfil the role he’d conformed to.

He grinned in the darkness as his arm slid its way across Tom’s middle, holding him with a type of gentle, intimate contact he’d never had with him before. He’d thought about it when his mind would wander, the ability to be tender with the man who’d so often exert his authority above him, to just tame him for a moment and make him see Greg as more than just a glorified assistant. And now he was.

The palm of his hand spread out, flattening over Tom’s chest as he neared himself even closer towards him, shuffling sheets the only noise in the room. His own chest was warmed by Tom’s back, but he still ensured his crotch kept its distance, lest his thoughts translate to his body, and his cock usurp his self-control.

He knew his own feelings, but he couldn’t call for what the other man’s motives were. It seemed pretty gay. Felt pretty gay. But it wasn’t, right? Tom wouldn’t just do that, wouldn’t just come out of nowhere to make them share a bed and cuddle. Yeah, he’d have a build up to it or something, like take him out on a date or to a bar or-

Or maybe invite him back to his apartment to crash for the night.

It’s not like he minded. Greg shut his eyes and leaned further into his hold on Tom’s body, his head sinking into the pillow that he now shared with the other man, and subtly, slowly, got more comfortable to nose at his hair. It was a realm of intimacy unfamiliar to Greg, but it was certainly not one he was afraid of venturing into.

“I really like spending time with you, Tom. You’re the only guy who—”

“-treats you good?” Tom finished the sentence for him, met with a short nod that he felt behind him with the dip of Greg’s chin.

“Yeah…” Was the accompanying admission. 

His hand held onto him tighter, and his body pulled him in closer. The comfort and the warmth of his position was beckoning him nearer to slumber, but then, once again, Tom interrupted the silence.

“Would you kiss me?”

Greg laughed not so quietly, remembering their first ever conversation on Logan’s birthday, the oddness Tom seemed to carry with him in an attempt to make friends. The question at the time seemed out of place, out of the unspoken laws of small talk with family, though there, in that moment, it seemed entirely appropriate. And that’s what made Greg laugh, the assumption that his words were a mere reference to what seemed like ages ago.

“I’m not kidding, dude.” Was the next thing Tom said, his tone a contrast to Greg’s scepticism,

“Right, right, man, really funny.” Greg said, clutching to him somewhat tighter in affirmation of the presumed ‘joke’. Though the tightness of his grip only proved weak against the resistance of Tom, who’s body was turning to lay flatly on his back once more, their faces closer, by result their mouths too.

Greg blinked thrice, rapid flutters of his eyelashes in a fluster at the change of position, gazing his wide eyes down at him, the few inches below that he was. Christ, even when laying right beside him, Greg seemed to make himself taller. It didn’t mean Tom wasn’t going to stand his ground.

“Not a joke this time.” He stated, biting his bottom lip as the quiver of nervousness panged in his heart, eyes flicking down to Greg’s lips. They started to form a reply with a preliminary smirk.

“If you asked me to?” He posed, the rhetoric one that made Tom nod with two little dips of his head, “If you told me to?” This time switching his voice to whisper in the dark, being gentle with the repetition of Tom’s own questions. His soft eyes darted left, circling around to the ceiling above him in contemplation before locking back with Tom’s, the stare that had never left him. He shrugged, his tell of a casual-not-casual reply. “Sure.”

Tom said nothing to the confirmation, a chill running up his spine at the prospect. His teeth let go of his lower lip.

Greg pressed his mouth onto his. 

It was gentle, just as he expected Greg to be, deepening slightly as the hand at his middle clasped harder with his melting movements, his lips truly _kissing_ him with the full intent of the notion. 

He separated from Tom’s mouth after another few moments, whether it lasted second or minutes, he couldn’t tell, but the excited passion beating in his veins remained undeniable. Tom grinned and let out a little chuckle, inciting anxiety to return, questioning whether it really was a joke, but then the reciprocation of touch, the slip of a hand around Greg’s waist, reassured him of his good intent. His fingertips ventured just beneath his waistband.

“Wow, man, I—"

“Would you fuck me?”

“Tom?!” Greg exclaimed, his breath catching in his throat from shock.

“ _Greg!_ ” Tom mirrored, his voice carrying an accent of sarcasm, mocking the younger man’s astonishment to the ask, even if it was completely warranted.

“That’s- That’s a leap and a half, dude, a- a real, uh, acceleration of events, and I—”

“If I asked you to?”

Greg had to grit his teeth to force the ‘yes’ back down his throat. It was still rising, up and up along with his blood pressure, both in his veins and down south, and he shook his head nervously with a stunned laugh,

“Tom—”

This time, Tom didn’t cut him off. He cut himself off. Because the affirmative answer was too eager.

“Greg.”

“Yes.” He said, “Yes to the question, and- and my name too, I guess—”

Tom’s lips pushed back onto him, his hand whisking up to clasp onto the back of his neck, pulling him into his space so closely that he was shifted on top of him, landing between his legs, brushing thighs against thighs in an awkward grasp for contact and comfort. 

In a pant for breath, Greg pulled off again, staring down at Tom’s open-mouthed expression, his hair in his eyes, already with blurry enough vision. His hands planted themselves either side of his head. They gripped tightly to the sheets beneath.

“Attaboy, Greg.” Tom whispered to him, the single word of encouragement that it was igniting the fire in his loins tenfold. He could already feel his cock stiffen in his underwear, and he wanted more than anything to give it to him.

“Do- Do you have any—”

“Drawer next to you.” Tom smirked, because _of course_ what Greg needed was in _his_ bedside drawer, not Shiv’s. 

Greg scrambled off of him, slipping across the mattress to slide open the drawer, forcing himself through the wobbling vertigo of his drunkenness to allow his lust to power through, adjusting his eyes in the dim light in search of lubricant. He recognised a bottle, noticing its weight was still pretty full after picking it up, and swallowed thickly in anticipation of its use. 

Whether it was used on Tom by Shiv, Shiv by Tom, or even just for themselves in private, Greg was surprised that it was even there, though thankful to no end. He moved back over, neglecting to shut the drawer after himself in his haste, and knelt on his calves between Tom’s legs. 

“You, uh, want to do it, or should I?” He asked, still yet to front his full confidence, hiding behind hesitance in self-preservation lest it still turned out to be a joke all along. But Tom’s gaze told him it was anything but.

“What do you want to do, Greg?” He replied in his low, serious voice. It went straight to Greg’s dick. He couldn’t say a word. “What do _you_ want to do?” He repeated it, trailing his fingertips over his thigh.

“I—”

Before he got the chance to answer, Tom asked him another question, somehow more outlandish than the previous,

“What’s your kink, Greg, I want to know what gets you off.”

The demand that it was for him to reveal such a thing made him all the more flustered. He looked away again, delaying the inevitable. He clicked the cap of the bottle open and closed, mumbling,

“I want to, uh, call you,” He rolled his eyes and laughed at himself, dropping his hands by his sides as he made his admission, “Daddy?” It wasn’t a question and yet it was said like one. Tom still answered.

“Yeah?” He said, his hand finally venturing to touch at Greg’s crotch. 

The contact made him smile again, his nervousness melting away while he nodded, returning the touch, just like their moment a few minutes prior. His palm, as it landed on Tom’s clothed dick, began to rub, coercing a small sigh of relief from him, “But I bet you want control, don’t you?” The goad was too good for Greg not to reply with a gentle squeeze at his cock through his underwear, his contended smile the only ‘yes’ that he needed. “Then what are you waiting for, cocksuck?”

The immediate result of gaining permission to dominate was the tighter squeeze of his hand as he knelt up, looming his height above the man beneath him, the bottle of lubricant still firmly grasped in his hand. 

Was he really about to fuck his cousin’s fiancée in their own bed? Was he really about to fulfil a fantasy of his that he’d held since the day he met him? Was he really about to enjoy it just as much as he had hoped? Yes. Yes to all three.

“What did you just call me, Tom?” He murmured, starting to pull his boxers down inch by inch, his eyes looking down at him somewhat innocently, like his expression was reticent to relay his elation.

Tom said nothing while he smirked in the silence over the quickness of the other man’s tone to be turn so authoritative. When they were yanked down with a forceful tug, he was less smug.

His half-hard cock came free, Greg leaving his underwear at his thighs, not even looking down at it to maintain eye contact. “What did you call me?”

After repeating his question, the cap of the lube was popped open once more, and this time, was not closed again. He smoothed the cool liquid over two fingers, raising his eyebrows in expectation, free hand pulling the underwear clean off. He gave a glance down before going back to his eyes, still awaiting his reply.

“I called you ‘cocksuck’, Greg.” Tom said, tilting his head to the side, seeing in the shadows the way Greg pouted his lips ever so slightly, just to separate them a second later. 

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘cos I- I thought that that was what you said, and I just wanted to make sure I heard that right, Daddy.” His breathing turned heady as soon as the last word was spoken, noticing the jolt of interest Tom’s cock gave to the honorific. He smirked and briefly looked away as he asked, “You know why?”

“Why, Greg?”

Greg spread open the legs that were either side of him even wider, slipping his body down between them, parting his lips again. One of the two slicked fingers found itself placed at Tom’s rim, ready to prepare him, pleasure him, probe him as well as he could.

He wasn’t a virgin, he’d had experiences with a few people here and there in the past, but he wasn’t exactly an aficionado in the sphere of coitus, and he’d be the first to admit it. In any usual case, he’d be nervous, uneasy with the idea of leading, despite it being what he wanted, yet there, in the close proximity of Tom, with the buzz of alcohol still floating across his mind and his headache now abated by the thrill of what was to come, he was readier than ever.

When he answered Tom’s question, he replied through action, dipping his head down to lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before taking it into his mouth, pushing the one, long digit in at the same time.

“Fuck, yeah…” Tom sighed as that wet tongue made contact, his lips wrapping around him gently before they began to bob up and down. The finger inside of him curled to graze his sweet spot, and that was when his hand lifted up from his side to clutch onto Greg’s locks, “Deeper, Greg, deeper…” He begged, moaning while the younger man did as was suggested, pushing the entirety of his finger inside to piston it in and out.

His tongue started swirling at the tip the moment the hand embedded in his hair started to push harder in yearning. But, for the first time, Greg was in control of Tom, not the other way around. He took his time with teasing, enjoying the feeling of having a dick in his mouth, something he hadn’t had the opportunity to have for a while now, and relished each and every swipe, each and every drag, each and every lap he made across it while taking it further.

It pushed into his cheek once it was full hardened with arousal, rewarded with the hollowing of Greg’s cheeks before managing to drool down the length of him, only taking his mouth away when he looked up and into his eyes. They were lust-blown with the situation, whether it due to Greg’s excellence, or because it was just Greg in general, he couldn’t tell, but in leaving his uncertain self behind while in that bed, chose to believe in both.

He grinned, still hooking his finger inside of him, still brushing against his prostate with teasingly limited motions, and smiled wider to see the look in his eyes shift to pure wantonness as the second finger slipped inside. 

“You like that, Daddy?” Greg asked, grasping his free hand onto the spit-clicked cock to stroke in sync with his fingers. The other man, with a bitten lip and hands screwed into tight fists, nodded with a whine, chasing his sensation with the casual, subtle rolls of his hips. “Do you wanna call me cocksuck again?”

The confidence that was breaking through him could only aid in accelerating Tom’s lust even more, and he shook his head, lamenting,

“I’m sorry, Greg, Daddy’s sorry,” Just saying the words made him want to come already, “You know that I only said it to—”

“To what, Tom?” He goaded back, now keenly pressing the tips of his fingers into his sweet spot, barely even excusing him the time to adjust when the pleasured shock ran up his spine to the sudden sensation, “To make it seem like you were in charge, I bet.” And he scoffed at the thought, the power getting to his head, delightfully so. He rutted his own friction-bare cock through his underwear against the sheets beneath him as he continued, starting to scissor his digits, “Well, it doesn’t look like it anymore, does it?”

Tom’s head sank back into his pillow as he shook it again, still tugging on Greg’s hair. “And that’s why I’m gonna make you _beg_ for it, Daddy, because you’re too entitled.” Not one mistake or disfluency was made in his speech, this spontaneous permission to exert authority something that Tom was admiring a lot, and so he abided,

“Please fuck me, Greg!” The plea was damn near torn out of him, but the catharsis of doing so, the relief of deigning to beg, stirred his licentious thoughts all the more.

Greg left him barren out touch the second after, taking his hand back to touch his own cock, and slipping his fingers out to trace them up Tom’s chest, rising up to kneel above him once more. Tom let go of his hair to allow him to tower over, watching it flop ever so slightly over his forehead. 

As he looked up at him, his skinny frame and lanky arms and broad shoulders, he didn’t see the usual bumbling and diffident young man that’d follow him at his ankles like a poodle in the office, but instead, a domineering and assured man who’s main prerogative was that of his _own_ desire, rather than what others told him to do.

Almost every part of him gave off that virile verve. Every part but his eyes, which remained innocent and wide, almost virtuous with their shine in the dim light. The pupils were wide and in accord with his desire, and yet their expression was of wholesome diligence, because he wanted Tom to be pleasured as much as he did himself. 

He tucked the loose strand of hair behind his ear before stripping out of his own boxers, tossing them onto the floor on Tom’s side in a careless fling, being all too intent on his goal than to care about making a mess. The lubricant was reintroduced to his palm again, whereupon he generously slicked up his cock, unable to stop himself from giving it a few languorous jerks along with a moan before dipping his body back down.

He guided his tip Tom’s hole, waiting to hear the one last defining plea before beginning, “Please, Greg…”

His hands grasped to the pillow either side of Tom’s head as he slipped inside, the two of them groaning together as the initial drive was executed with careful slowness. Greg’s body dipped down as he pushed into his hilt, almost collapsing on top of the other man between his legs, burying his face at his neck.

Tom’s hand return to hold onto his hair, panting in his ear alongside him while they both adjusted – Greg to the warmth and wetness, being able to slide his entire length inside, and Tom to his size and weight, adoring every breath the other man took before shifting ever so slightly. 

He couldn’t see his face, but he was sure of how it must have looked: eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open, and tongue floating inside his mouth as he debated whether to moan or to whine.

He may have had sex before, but it was no where near as good as this was about to be.

“Are you gonna start fucking me, Greg?” Tom posed with a gentle whisper, encouraging the other man to finally opt for a whine, carrying with it a scratching, “Yes!” as his hips began to move. 

He drew himself back with a slow pull before driving back in at an equal pace, starting to nudge his head deeper into the junction of Tom’s neck and shoulder, nosing at his skin to pick up his scent again. It was relaxing and affirming, as were the gentle strokes of his hair that ratified his action.

“Fuck, Daddy, you feel so good!” Was all he could manage through his whimpers, his volume higher than that of what he’d ever be used to using; emboldened and loud, desperate to continue. And that was something Tom had _no_ issue with.

His left palm landed gently on Tom’s cheek, holding him closer as he continued his shallow ruts in and out, while his right hand clutched onto the flesh on his thigh, forcing his legs wider apart to accommodate for the leverage he needed for his next thrusts. He sucked in a harsh inhale, then drove in more harshly than before, slamming into his sweet spot.

“Fuck, Greg!” Tom groaned, clutching onto him desperately while his pace picked up the quickening to reach a consistent speed, praising, “That’s my boy, you’re such a good boy!” 

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, right there!” Tom exclaimed, grasping her him harder as he brushed against his prostate once more, “ _Right_ fucking there!”

“Right there?!”

“You’re gonna make me come, Greg,” He said, feeling himself near his climax already, if only a bit of friction could bridge the gap and let him reach it, “Are you gonna let me?”

Greg grinned at the appeal, pressing his lips to Tom’s neck briefly before thinking about it. He was in the position to deny him of such a thing, to make him wait, maybe even to prevent entirely, and he quickly came to a decision,

“Uh, no, no I’m not- I won’t.”

“Really?” Tom said as he bit his lip, switching the gentle stroking of his hand to a desperate clutch once more, tugging almost impatiently in an attempt to sway his refusal, “You don’t sound so confident in that, Greg.” Oh, he was pushing it. Well. Greg said nothing and only proceeded with a sharper, deeper thrust, holding back his whines. “Because Daddy really wants to come. You’re not gonna let me?”

“No.” He affirmed his decision, “I’m not.”

“So, what if I make myself finish, what are you gonna do?” Came the retort with his chuckle that melted into a groan, his hand slipping down across Greg’s back, “Huh?”

The palm that lay on Tom’s cheek forced his head to turn, directing his attention to Greg’s eyes as he leaned upwards and away from his neck. His confidence was being tested in one of the most significant ways it could ever be, though it never faltered his exquisite strokes for a second. His eyes, however, retained that worried look.

“I’ll- I’ll fucking punish you, that’s what I’ll do.” He asserted, nodding to convince himself of its truth too.

“My boy’s gonna punish me, is he?”

“Yes.”

Tom grinned, wondering if this confirmation would come to fruition. Little did he know, he wouldn’t get the chance to find out.

His hand slipped off Greg’s back, dipping below the sheets that were now rumpled at his waist to make its way towards his own cock, aiming to stroke it to completion himself. But, before he could even pass his fist between him, his wrist was seized and pinned down beside his head on the pillow. 

Greg was panting, still working on his thrusts, not knowing whether he could stop someone else from coming when he too was so close to his own finish, but he ensured his words were clear enough for Tom to hear.

“I said no.”

Nothing Tom could say could convey how impressed his was, nor how aroused he felt; Greg’s refusal to allow him to finish having the opposite effect - making him want to all the more. The hand remained gripped to Tom’s wrist while the other dug into the flesh of his thigh, increasing pressure more and more with quicker thrusts and harsher strokes. He closed his eyes again, just as Tom imagined he had before, and his pleading expression, his desperately open mouth that panted hot breaths, informed him of his approach to climax.

“Close, Greg?” He asked, his free hand grasping to his other arm in assurance, “Are you gonna come for Daddy?”

“Yeah! Yeah I am!” He whimpered, “I- I never had the chance to- inside, I mean, fuck!”

He was growing overwhelmed by sensation, the tightness and warmth within which he had progressed from slowly rutting in and out of, to driving into as strong as his stamina could allow him, had made so close now that he could almost taste it. 

“It’s okay, Greg, you’re okay,” Tom assured, thumb making small, comforting circles on his skin, “You’re great, I want you to come, I want you to, for me, Greg.”

“Yeah, Daddy?!”

“Yeah, yeah!” 

Greg groaned, and it marked the moment that he finally spilled himself out, laboured breaths dragging into him while the bliss washed over, his body poised, paused, right on top of Tom, with the desperate hand still clutched to his wrist. 

From Tom’s thigh, Greg released the pressure of his fingers and moved onto his dick without thinking twice, his thumb running across the head in circles to spread the pre-come that had long since been leaking. His own cock was still buried inside, and only as his eyes opened, could he sense the other man was soon to finish as well.

Looking into Greg’s eyes as it happened would be one of the most defining orgasms Tom would ever have. He shot across his bare stomach, moaning along with it, and had only that face to stare back at, the cute, innocent-yet-commanding stare to nod and give permission for him to do it. 

Greg drew himself out a few seconds later, collapsing beside him and enveloping his arms around his chest, panting in the darkness. He pressed his lips to Tom’s shoulder, to tired and fucked out to reach up to his mouth, and closed his eyes, resting his body to be swallowed by sleep.

The next morning when Greg blinked open his eyes to see the stream of sun pour through the window, the first thing he felt was Tom beside him.

Well, actually, the first thing he felt was compelling nausea and grogginess, but tangibly, beneath his fingertips and limbs, his right cheek and his left hand, it was Tom. His head was rested on his chest, legs tangled amongst his, and arms splayed over his middle to effectively pin him down on the mattress. 

It must’ve happened in the night as he slept, the self-proclaimed ‘starfish’ habit of his proving true. He nestled into his chest for more warmth, more contact, and stirred the other man from his silence.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” What a Tom thing to say. “Want breakfast? I didn’t wanna wake you straight away, but I could find us something to eat real quick if you want.”

“Y’know, man, the thought of putting food into my body is just, uh, not one that I want to think about, right now—”

“-Yeah?”

“Yeah, so we could, on the way to the office, grab a bite, if you want?” He whole-heartedly hoped that Tom would cancel, or at least postpone, their workday, and kept his eyes closed to prevent himself from acknowledging the daybreak.

“Fuck it, Greg, we’ll stay here today, I’m sure they won’t miss us too bad.” 

He seemed relaxed, very relaxed, even, especially for a man whose fiancée was due to return practically any minute. Greg thought it best to remind him of this fact, lest he had forgotten and the two were about to get caught in a not so desirable position.

“When’s Shiv supposed to be coming back?”

There was a pause, and Tom exhaled, his comforting hand returning to the back of Greg’s head to play with his hair,

“Not for another hour or so,” He told him, resting his head back onto his pillow, “But it needs to look like you were no where near this bed, do you understand me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, when we get up, you take a shower, I’ll clean the sheets, and none of this ever happened.”

Greg’s heart deflated a little at that last bit. However hazy the drunken memory of it was, the night before was real, and he knew the both of them enjoyed it just as much as each other. So, for it to be dismissed in that way, he couldn’t help but want to move off of him and perform that task prescribed to him immediately. That was until Tom followed up, “For Shiv, that is.”

And he took Greg’s hair between his fingers, tracing them gently, soothingly, across his scalp, making him melt across him in the intoxicating doze of their lie-in. 

“Well, can we at least give it ten more minutes?” He asked, adjusting his legs ever so slightly to fit more comfortably with Tom’s, “If you want to, I mean.”

“Of course, I want to, Greg, of course.” Tom’s soft tone told him, his lips planting a kiss on the crown of his head.

Ten minutes came and went, a criminally short amount of time when it was so damn comfortable to lay in paradise with each other.

Greg stepped out of the en-suite with one towel around his hips and one draped over his head and its sopping hair to greet Tom, who was sat on freshly laid sheets and cushions. No mess, no clothes, no underwear were in sight, and it was probably tidier than when they’d walked in the evening prior.

“Did that sober you up?” Tom teased, still slightly lethargic from the labour of putting on new covers for the bed, but still with enough energy in him to laugh as Greg pitifully shook his head.

“No, man, not really,” He lifted his arms to rub the towel against his hair, a feeble attempt at drying it, “And I didn’t even know which, like, shampoo to use, because you guys have, like, ten, so I just picked one and I don’t even know if it did anything.”

“Y’know, half of those are probably conditioners,” Tom told him as he made a reach for his suit, folded neatly on top of a chair, “Don’t tell me you use some three-in-one bullshit or something.”

Greg was quiet as he slipped his underwear on, dropping the towel to the floor.

“I mean, if it works it works, right?” He said with a shrug, picking up his shirt and poking his arms into the sleeves. Tom only blinked and said,

“The first thing I’ll be doing as soon as I step into the outside world, Greg, is buy you some fucking shampoo _and_ conditioner _and_ body wash for all of your showering needs. Okay?”

It wasn’t a joke, and it wasn’t even a stab at how ludicrous a three-in-one was, only a genuine offer from the other man’s generosity.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man, of course,” He laughed as if it even needed questioning, “Pick up that towel and put your pants on, and we can watch TV or something until she gets here, yeah?”

Greg nodded and smiled, the way he always would when someone offered him a scrap of nicety or praise, and he picked up his trousers, stepping into them quickly and pulling them up to his waist, eager to get ready as soon as possible. He stepped forward just as Tom slid off the bed and said,

“Don’t forget your tie, cocksuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated ♥ Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
